


Out Of Tomato

by maebethistime



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maebethistime/pseuds/maebethistime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin went to work that morning, the last thing he'd expected was that Arthur--after being MIA for hundreds of years--would walk through the front door. </p><p>In which Merlin is determined to get his reunion hug, Arthur doesn't remember a thing and thinks Merlin is crazy, and one poor girl is denied tomato in her sandwich.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Of Tomato

**Author's Note:**

> Beware. Many run-on sentences ahead. I decided to just say "fuck it" to proper syntax.

It was a Tuesday—one of those rainy, sluggish, mid-April exam month Tuesdays—when Merlin heard the chime of someone coming in the door of the basement cafe on campus he'd been forced to get a job in to help pay off his student loans, and looked up from the sandwich he was making for the incredibly exhausted looking graduate student carrying what looked like ten pounds of textbooks in her backpack to see Arthur Pendragon slouching in the entranceway, dripping wet and looking more disgruntled than that cat on the internet that was famous for being grumpy.

Merlin stress-hiccuped loudly. He also knocked over a jar of mustard with his elbow.

“God, this place is tiny!” Arthur—because, God, that couldn't be anybody but him, and it wasn't the face, no, because Merlin had run up to too many people who had blond hair and chiseled chins over the last few thousand years and been instantly disappointed when he got close, no, it was something intrinsic that screamed “this is _him_ , this is _your_ king”—complained to no one in particular. He was alone, but he carried himself (just like he'd always done) with the air of someone who expected to have ten men hanging on his every word even when he wasn't paying them the slightest bit of attention. “The way Gabe went on and on, I would've thought that it would be nicer than this.”

Merlin stared, eyes drinking in the sight of him. To say he looked exactly like Merlin remembered would obviously be false, considering Arthur wasn't clanking around in chainmail and a sword anymore, but somehow he looked _exactly like he always had_ , completely natural in skinny jeans and leather boots and—and some sort of hipstery-scarf that reminded Merlin of the one Arthur had made fun of him for wearing all the time back when Merlin was a servant and Arthur was his king. He had that mulish, annoyed expression on his face that he used to get whenever Merlin had done something stupid, like miss a spot washing his armour. He was shaking his arms in irritation, trying to flick water off the ends of the sleeves of his sweater. He looked...god, he looked good. He looked alive. He looked good.

Merlin wanted to touch him so badly that his fingers felt stiff.

Merlin's mouth had been hanging open for so long at this point that the saliva in his mouth was starting to dry uncomfortably.

“Um, excuse me? Are you going to finish my sandwich or what?”

It was only force of habit to respond to people's voices addressing him that made Merlin's eyes peel away from Arthur and latch onto the girl in front of him, looking unamused with everything. She gestured to the half-finished sandwich still clutched in Merlin's sweaty hands.

“Oh, right.” Merlin said blankly. He grabbed a second piece of bread and jammed it on top of the sandwich to close it up, then handed it over the top of the counter. “Here.”

His eyes were back on Arthur again. What? The last time he had seen him was thousands of years ago, and he had been dead at the time, face slackened and peaceful. No one could blame him for desperately wanting to soak up every second he could get of Arthur alive and pissed off because he'd gotten a tiny bit wet in the drizzle outside.

“I asked for tomato,” the girl complained.

“We're out of tomato,” Merlin hissed. Arthur was inspecting the array of drinks only a few feet away from them. Arthur. Was. Only. A. Few. Feet. Away. From. Him.

Within reach.

“No, you're not, I can see the tomato right ther—”

Merlin grabbed the lid and slammed it down on the compartment holding the red slices.

“We are OUT of tomato,” he repeated.

The girl followed Merlin's gaze to Arthur (who was now judging the merits of Sprite against some sort of flavoured water) and rolled her eyes, shifting her backpack higher on her shoulders.

“Geez,” she muttered as she slid down the counter to the end where you pay. “You don't need to be so rude, he's not even that cute.”

“Hey!” Merlin called out, leaning over the counter so far he was in danger of spilling out onto the other side. “You interested in a sandwich?”

He'd thought a lot about what his first words to Arthur would be after he found him again. That sentence had definitely not been at the top of his list.

Arthur turned and ambled over, having apparently selected flavoured water.

“Maybe,” he drawled, sounding bored, even as his eyes flicked speculatively over Merlin. “Depends on what you have.”

“My name's Merlin!”

That had not been what he'd intended to blurt out.

Arthur arched an eyebrow.

“Uh, okay, _Merlin_ ,” he said slowly. And there was that familiar look of “god, Merlin's an idiot.” “Unless you're a sandwich, that was not what I was asking.”

Merlin laughed. Hysterically. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Evan at the other end of the counter shooting him concerned looks while he counted out the change for the girl who wanted tomato in her sandwich.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Merlin babbled, his hands drumming against the edge of the counter. “No, I was just mentioning it because you're...you're Arthur, aren't you? I mean, I think we shared a class last semester. I remember you. But I never introduced myself. But I just thought it was funny, you know, Merlin and Arthur. Just, because, our names. Yeah.”

It was definitely (not) the most eloquent speech he had ever made, not counting that time he'd had to make up some sort of excuse about a weird religion that didn't allow him to date in order to get this girl in high school to leave him alone because he'd felt that explaining that he was a centuries old magic dude who was waiting for the reincarnation of his king would not go over very well.

Arthur's brow wrinkled. Jesus, Arthur was right in front of him, inches away, and he was alive enough to be able to wrinkle his brow. Merlin leaned forward a little bit more, trying to feel the heat of his body. Flashes of hot and cold raced over the bare skin of his arms, and his brain kept shooting him back to the banks of that lake where he had curled over Arthur's body and pressed their foreheads together. Usually any memories of that day were enough to ruin his mood for a week, but right now he was so happy it was practically exploding out of his skin, even if he was making a terrible “first” impression on the man who was once his king.

Still better than their real first meeting, which involved Arthur trying to kill him.

“Really?” Arthur said skeptically. “I don't remember seeing you, and most of my classes were pretty small. And they're all full year classes.”

I don't remember you.

Merlin ducked his head so that Arthur couldn't see the instinctive flash of hurt that shot across his face at those words. He'd known that if he really was reincarnated, he obviously wouldn't remember Merlin. But the idea of that suddenly seemed impossible, and the joy of seeing Arthur in front of him dimmed at the knowledge that the Arthur in front of him was one who didn't know all that they were to each other.

 _I've waited for you for so long,_ he thought. _And it's just not fair if after all this time I only get half of you._

The urge to touch Arthur—to make sure he really was real—was suddenly overpowering.

“Can I hug you?”

Arthur stared at him.

Merlin was surprised at his own words too, but he refused to take them back. He could feel the wild, crazy smile breaking across his face as he took in Arthur's ridiculously affronted expression because god, it was so fucking familiar and he had thought he'd never get to see it again, had resigned himself to living out hundreds of lives without his king, but now he was here right in front of him—and that was it. Propriety be damned. Merlin couldn't hold back anymore.

He heaved himself up to sit on the counter, swinging his legs up and over it. Arthur took a few wary steps backwards, watching him like he thought Merlin was going to launch himself right into his arms.

To be fair, that was sort of what Merlin was planning to do.

“Whoa, man, I just want a sandwich, back off,” Arthur began. His voice grew increasingly panicked when Merlin didn't show any signs of being deterred in his quest, instead sliding off the counter and advancing slowly but surely. He was going for that hug. He hadn't had Arthur's arms around him for thousands of years and he wasn't going to be denied it now.

“Merlin!” Evan yelled, leaning dangerously far over his own counter. The girl who wanted tomato was growing steadily more annoyed at being ignored. “Merlin, harassing the customers is a no-no!”

Arthur's hands were hovering over his hip, almost as if he was reaching for a sword.

“Merlin, think of the rules! The employee handbook!”

“Come on, just one hug!” Merlin said. He held his arms out and Arthur flinched backwards even harder.

“Sorry, but I'm not interested,” Arthur said, his voice overly calm, like he was trying to reason with an ornery horse. “I—I'm not gay!”

“Oh, come on, I just want a hug!” Merlin exclaimed. Seriously, it wasn't that big of a deal. Well, it was. To Merlin at least. But why couldn't Arthur just let a strange boy he'd never met before hug him? There was nothing gay about that!

Arthur bolted.

Merlin pursued.

There was a split second where Merlin was sure he'd catch him; that he'd be able to grab onto the back of Arthur's shirt and yank him off balance enough for Merlin to gather him in his arms. Yank him off balance enough that maybe he would fall back onto Merlin and he could catch him and cradle him the way he did so many years ago. He was sure somehow that if he could just touch him, Arthur would suddenly be able to remember again. Arthur would know who he was. Arthur would clutch at him as tightly as Merlin wanted him to.

Merlin would have his king back.

Yes, for a split second, he almost got his hug.

But then there was a sharp cry—“Merlin, watch OU—”—and Merlin was pitching forward, tripping headlong over the girl who wanted tomato's backpack, left abandoned on the floor behind her. He caught only a slurred whirl of wall and his own flailing hands and Arthur's face as he looked over his shoulder to see what had become of his pursuer, before he was thudding onto the floor. A flash of pain, and then blackness.

* * *

 

His first thought when consciousness became a thing again was, _well, at least I got to see him again before I died._

His second thought was _wait, I hear Evan screaming at me. Can't be dead then._

And indeed his coworker was yowling up a storm above him.

“Merlin? Oh my god. I think he hit his head. Does anyone see blood? Merlin, CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Merlin blinked his eyes open blearily, peering up to see that Evan was apparently fanning his face with a giant yellow “CAUTION: WET FLOOR” sign.

“I have a phobia of blood, okay, I am not getting anywhere near that if he is—thank god, Merlin, are you alright?”

Without even waiting for an answer, Evan lifted his head and bellowed to the people Merlin could hear murmuring worriedly out of his immediate line of sight, “It's okay, folks! He's alive! Return to your food!”

Merlin slowly sat up, leaning back on one elbow while he tried to re-orient himself. He wasn't really hurt. His magic was already buzzing around his body and fixing what tiny pangs remained, but there was nothing his magic could do for the swell of embarrassment in his chest. He had risked life and limb (well not really, since he couldn't really die) and most importantly his pride all for one chance to hug Arthur and he had failed massively and now Arthur was probably miles away—

“Hey, uh...you okay?”

His head snapped to the side in utter disbelief at the sight of Arthur crouching down beside him, smiling that uncomfortable smile he did when he was trying to ease his way out of a sticky situation without insulting anyone.

He was still there.

“You know, if you're so desperate for a hug, you should hit up one of those guys who carry “FREE HUG” signs around,” Arthur said awkwardly. “Might have better luck. And you wouldn't make yourself look like an idiot while you're at it.”

He was still there.

And...

There was no way he would be able to dodge soon enough.

Merlin burst into movement, swinging his arms around Arthur's shoulders and dragging him half on top of him in a hug. The other man didn't stand a chance, his yelp of surprise muffled into the fabric of Merlin's shirt. Arthur was warm and solid against him, no barrier of chainmail between them, and Merlin pressed his face into Arthur's hair, closing his eyes to soak in the...aliveness of his king

And Arthur didn't pull away.

He sat there, his body frozen against Merlin's, his chest pushing out faster and faster with each breath, the air blowing hot and damp onto Merlin's chest in shocked little bursts. Merlin's could feel that he was holding on way too tightly, fingers pushing into the muscle of Arthur's back, but he couldn't make himself let go. He could feel magic flowing from his head straight down to the places where his hands touched Arthur, and with it came one insistent thought: _make him remember._

“Merlin?”

It was a tiny whisper. Merlin might not have even heard it if it wasn't for the fact that it was Arthur who was the one who said it. And not in the sarcastic, mocking voice he'd used before, but in a voice he truly remembered. A voice that held recognition. God, somehow, it had worked.

“Yeah, Arthur, it's me!” he said, the words bubbling thick up his throat. He felt like he was on the verge of doing something ridiculous (more ridiculous than chasing someone down for a hug) like burst into tears. “It's me, Arthur, it's me.”

Arthur shifted in his arms, pushing himself up so he could rest his chin on Merlin's shoulder, his own arms finally sweeping up to wrap around Merlin. The bump of his cheek pressed against Merlin's face, curved enough that Merlin could tell that he was grinning, huge and real.

“Okay, this is all very sweet, but could you move your legs? They're on my backpack.”

Both Merlin and Arthur ignored the girl who wanted tomato.

Arthur was shaking. He pulled back a tiny amount so that they could look at each other, and Merlin felt a lot better about the tears sliding down his cheeks when he saw that Arthur was crying as well.

“Camelot,” Arthur gasped out, looking amazed. “And _you_ , god, Merlin, it's all suddenly back in my head, how, how can you be here, how can I be here, _Merlin_.”

Merlin couldn't take his eyes off of Arthur's face, so close to his. He was hyper aware of the press of Arthur's wide hands against his back.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered.

“Um, Merlin, you guys are sort of making a scen—oh my dear lord.”

Evan's distress was kind of really unimportant to Merlin right at that moment, because Arthur's hands had slid around to cup his face, and he was kissing him, rough and intent. Merlin pressed forward blindly, opening his mouth to the slide of Arthur's tongue and kissing back as hard as he could. And that, more than the hug, more than just the sight of Arthur, was what made it click into place that he truly had him back. They'd never, ever done _this_ before, but somehow, here on the floor of the basement cafe at the seventh university Merlin had enrolled himself in over the years while he waited for Arthur, it felt like this was everything he had ever needed.

Arthur pulled back, a string of saliva swinging between their slick lips like a tiny bridge, and just stared at Merlin.

“Well.”

Merlin wouldn't have even bothered to look away from Arthur's face if it were not for the fact that the voice was accompanied by someone shoving at the lower half of his body. He looked up to see the girl who wanted tomato dragging her backpack out from underneath his legs and hoisting it with great effort up onto her back, staring down at them all the while in great distaste.

“As someone who has just been made late for a date with her girlfriend because of you clowns,” she snapped. “I can say with authority that that was the gayest thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”

That being said, she flounced out the door (well, as much as anyone can flounce when they're being weighed down by textbooks).

Arthur and Merlin stared after her for a moment before they turned back to each other. Their eyes met, and suddenly they were both laughing. Giddiness bubbled up their chests, their bodies shaking with it. And they clutched at each other, warm and real and together again.

Evan was complaining under his breath about how weird his life was and Merlin had an exam in two days for Anthropology that he hadn't started studying for yet and Arthur was probably going to freak the fuck out in a few minutes over all of these new memories, but right now, right here, it was all good.

Merlin had gotten his hug.

Merlin had gotten his king back.

And Merlin had gotten this: Arthur's smiling mouth pressed to his own.


End file.
